


waltz of the snowflakes.

by zenospenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Soft Zenos yae Galvus, Zenos yae Galvus Has Feelings, foraging, hunting for sport, no zenos romance is not stalking someone while theyre dancing in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenospenos/pseuds/zenospenos
Summary: zenos finds someone trespassing upon his royal hunting grounds
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Original Character(s), Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	waltz of the snowflakes.

The snow trickles down from a gloomy sky, filling his lungs with a chilling breeze as he takes a deep breath in, a warm fog escaping through his parted lips as he sighs. The thin branches of the pine trees scattered around him sway back and forth with the winter wind, the thick layer of snow crunching under the hooves of his horse making for a most enjoyable winter ride. 

Zenos follows her for bells before she even knows of his existence in these woods. 

He had spotted her over the snowy hillside, digging around a frozen pond and foraging for roots and berries and nuts. She was so frail and skinny, it was a wonder that the cold didn’t poison her from the inside out, even if she was covered in layers and layers of knitwear and wool. In fact, she looked so out of place from the normal drab landscape, that he couldn’t help but follow her as she carefully navigated the woods, normally rose-colored hair flecked white with snowflakes and ice. 

Did she know she intruded so carefully upon his royal hunting grounds? 

He follows her from malms away, tracking her down through the light footprints left in the snow, the holes dug around the occasional oak tree giving away her position. 

It was a game of cat-and-mouse, and oh how he intended to savor it. 

He can hear her humming as he draws nearer, dismounting from his steed and tying the bridle to a sturdy trunk, the soft leather of his hunting boots allowing him to silently traverse the wood without giving himself away. The only thing he carried with him being his crossbow and warmed waterskin, he was able to traverse the wintry landscape without any trouble. How pretty she was, so out-of-place in the dark forests of Ilsabard when she looked like she belonged in the summer valleys of Doma. How long had she been here, and how did she not know that the ground she walked upon was so sacred? She intrigued him, and he followed her with a slight smile on his face. 

Oh, how she dances around the woods, the layers and layers of knitted wool draped around her swishing back and forth with the wind. Her boots crunch so pleasantly against the snow, and her laughter is purely joyful as she spins around, catching a snowflake on her tongue. 

He could see her shiver from the cold, standing on her toes to grab a ripe plum from a low-hanging branch, polishing the fruit on the scarlet neckerchief that hung loosely around her frame and placing it in her basket. 

What a bounty she’s been able to forage for, and how resourceful she’s been at using her skills to sniff out the freshest berries and roots. He would applaud her if he could, but oh how he wishes he could swoop in and pick her up from the snow and carry her to a warm place for her to sleep in his arms.. 

Oh, how he would love to have a pet such as her. 

He’s never taken care of a living thing before, but if she could sustain herself out here in the freezing cold, surely she could survive under his watchful gaze. He didn’t even have to feed her; she was resourceful enough to find her own food.   
He stands there watching silently, conjuring up ideas of how to steal her away. Zenos becomes so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice her make her way into the thicker part of the wood from whence he came, and his heart beats out of time for a moment. 

Her hand is so tiny compared to the Garlean-sized bit and bridle, and he can sense her awe as she approaches his mount, gloved hand stroking its mane gently. 

She speaks, but he can’t hear the words come from her pretty little lips as the winds pick up, whistling through the branches as he stalks her. He can see the apples of her cheeks, dotted with the fairest of speckles and tinted scarlet from the cold, raise in a smile as she coos something to the beast before her. A gentle puff of steam escapes from the horse’s nose, and he can hear her chuckle faintly from where he stands, the sound akin to that of a little bell. 

Could she not see the imperial crest imprinted upon the mount’s saddle? The silver trimmings, the luxurious coat? This was not any beast native to Ilsabard, nor was it likely to belong to any common merchant traveling through the woods. Would she notice the silky mane, the freeze brand on the shoulder marking it a native of the Azim Steppe? It was a fine creature, to be sure, and yet she had no clue that its owner lurked nearby. 

He takes this chance to load a bolt into his crossbow, sliding the arrow silently into the barrel and clicking the notch into place. 

What a fine hunt this would be. 

Zenos raises the weapon to his eye, icy gaze staring down the bolt inside its chamber and aiming it directly at the small woman merely a few yalms away. He ponders where he should shoot as he steps closer to her, once, twice, before planting his feet into the snow-covered ground and taking a deep breath in. 

He could pierce her heart, watch her fall and bleed out into the snow, the stark contrast of her scarlet essence upon the frozen forest floor being a spectacle he could remember for years and years. The spatter of blood that she would cough upon his saddle, the sound of her frail little body caving in on itself and tumbling to the ground, her last words a mere choked sob as blood pooled around her. 

He could shoot her between the eyes and end her pitiful life instantly, a merciful gesture. Though, as he thought about it, such a death would not bring him any joy, only the deepest longing to see her again keeping him from aiming the weapon at her pink little head. 

He could also miss her entirely -- a warning shot, to see her shriek in fear and bolt as fast as she could, unknowingly running deeper and deeper into his territory. Oh, how he could chase after her, firing arrows into trees and occasionally a fulm away from her last step, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of her terrified sobs as she struggled to breathe in such a frigid climate.  
But he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his weapon, creeping towards her ever so slowly until he could practically reach out and touch her...

...And he does. 

Her gasp is quieter than he expected when he reaches out to grasp at her shoulder, turning her towards him and bringing his other hand to her chin, dropping his weapon into the snow. 

She shakes, trembling violently in his hardened grip as he peers into her eyes, fascinated with such a warm color. It was a delicate gold, but not cold and unloving like those that belonged to his Father. No, it was soft and gentle, much like her, and the pearls of white that dotted her face like the snowflakes falling around them were so precious, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Wh-” She squeaks, her voice quivering as he tilts her face upwards to get a better look at her features, at the pearlescent scales that lined her jaw and atop the bridge of her nose. “Who are you?”

“Oh, my pet. Do you not know whose woods you trespass so woefully into belong to?” He purrs, stroking a piece of rose-tinted hair and brushing it behind the flares of her horns. “These are my hunting grounds, and any and all who interfere with the hunt, do not ever do so twice.” 

She shivers, though he cannot tell whether it’s from the cold or her fear. Zenos smiles, his leather-wrapped thumb swiping over the ruby red of her lips, cracked and chilled from the cold. 

How badly he wants to kiss her, to sweep her into his arms and carry her home like an injured doe. 

“I-I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Her voice is so soft, so pretty and gentle. Zenos almost feels bad for leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, but once he feels the cool scale against his lips, his heart blossoms into something spectacular that he’s never felt before. 

The feeling of his own hunt yielding beautifully to him as he takes and takes and takes. 

And still she gives more. 

“My Lord, I did not mean to--” She whispers, but he shushes her with the press of his index to her lips, stepping away to shrug off his coat and cover her in it, his lopsided smile growing at the sheer difference in size between them. 

“Quiet, beast. If you had offended me you wouldn’t have had the strength to keep breathing.” He says, scooping her up in his arms and hoisting himself up onto his mount, untying the bridle from its branch with a single hand as he clutches onto her to keep her warm. Holding it close to her chest, she clutches her basket of goods with a determined grip, but his crossbow remains untouched as he gives the horse a small kick, ordering it to a steady trot. 

What an odd end to such a short tale, he thinks as he takes the woman back to his chambers and sets her on the plush loveseat in front of a burning fire. He notes how she reluctantly lets go of him, how she curls up on the chair and clutches his coat as it wraps around her still. 

Zenos watches her, as he's always done, and smiles. 

That this little savage has captured his heart in such a way. What an odd end indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments appreciated.


End file.
